


Torchwood - A Day in the Life One-Shot - A Peek Inside the Vault (Ianto POV)

by Feral_Female



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 06:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9980708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feral_Female/pseuds/Feral_Female
Summary: It’s time for another “Day in the Life” short. They are not part of the major storylines time line. For those new to me and my world, these one-shots will be short little vignettes- some will be funny, some emotional, some erotic - but all will be either Jack or Ianto showing us the daily little mundane things in their lives, the things that they fight to preserve for us and for them.To quote Rhys Williams- “You do it so people can live their lives. And there’s nothing more important than that.”





	

**A Peek Inside the Vault (Ianto)**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

I’d slipped out onto the patio five minutes ago, the party taking place inside my sister’s small home sending me out into the dismal, damp afternoon. The rain rushed out of the gutter that hung loosely off the small back porch. I shuddered inside my jacket, the rain coupled with the February cold chilling my marrow.

The backyard was littered with bikes as well as a cricket bat, a large pink ball, and a soggy old cloth doll lying in a mud puddle. Hands in the front pockets of my jeans and my shoulders up around my ears, I studied the toys lying out in the deluge. Lost in thought as the rain beat down thunderously on the roof of the small patio, I barely heard the door right beside me opening. Jack stepped out of the madness of fifteen five-year-old children stuck inside, screams and laughter rolling out into the damp air with him. He hurried to slide the glass door shut then wiggled in beside me, his arm resting comfortably against mine.

“I was wondering where you snuck off to,” he said, his words clouding in front of his handsome face. He had a nice profile. His sight darted to me then returned to the cluttered yard. “Getting a bit too much for you?”

“A bit,” I confessed. I thought to elaborate but kept my glum to myself.

“Who knew little girls could hit that frequency?”

“Only every dog in the neighborhood.” He chortled at the comment, bounced up to his toes for a moment, and then returned to his flat-footed stance. His hands were clasped behind his back and small droplets of water were forming on the epaulets of his greatcoat.

“Was it the pitch or something else that pushed you out into this lovely, late-winter Wales day?”

I stared out at the rain coming down in sheets, seeing it but not really seeing it. I knew what he was asking. “It’s not the sound or the crush of bodies.” I paused and pondered. “Well, perhaps some of it might be the fact that I’ve been barreled into by at least ten children in less than thirty minutes and every one of those collisions included a sharp little elbow to my groin.”

Jack laughed aloud at that one. “Next time we come to a party here we’ll have to get you an athletic protector to wear. There are certain parts of your body that I do _not_ want to see bruised and battered.” He nudged my elbow with his.

“Me either.” The mood lightened just a bit so the thoughts that were scurrying around inside my head rolled out with more ease. “She’s taken down all the pictures of my father despite my telling her not to.”

“She wants you here more.”

I exhaled some tension away. “Yes, I know, which is why I’m here.”

“So, it wasn’t his ghost that sent you out into the rain? I’m glad.”

I wanted to kiss him for being so concerned but we were clearly visible through the sliding glass doors. While my sister and her husband may be welcoming of two men kissing on the patio, many of the other children’s parents might not be. I kept my hands, and my lips, to myself.

“No, no ghosts. Well, maybe a specter in a different form.” Jack stood quietly beside me, bouncing up and down, toe to heel, as I gathered my thoughts and the bravery needed to articulate them. “It’s much more difficult than I thought it would be coming to grips with not being able to father children. Seeing John with Mica and David slices like a knife. Foolish, I know, because six months ago having children was the furthest thing from my mind.”

“It’s human nature to mourn the things we can’t have even if we never wanted them before.” I felt his gaze on me and glanced to the left. “Give Owen time. He’s working on your case every spare minute he has.”

“I know. I’ll never be able to repay him for the overtime he spends on trying to figure me out.”

“He’d never take anything you offered as recompense anyway.” I nodded at that. The wind picked up a bit and blew some rain under the roof, wetting the tips of our shoes. I enjoyed the smell of Welsh rain. “You know that there’s more than one way to be a father. You can adopt or find a surrogate mother in conjunction with a sperm donor. Fathering isn’t just limited to men who produce the sperm that burrowed into the egg.”

“Do you ever think about being a father?”

“I already am.” His reply wasn’t exactly unexpected yet it still stunned me a bit. I turned to face him. He continued to watch the rain for a moment then looked my way. His expression was guarded. “This isn’t exactly the way I’d planned to tell you about her.”

“You have a daughter. Okay, that’s um… well, considering how long you’ve been around it’s not unreasonable to think that you’d produced offspring.” I crossed my arms over my damp coat, hoping to look nonplussed but failing horribly I was sure. “Is she still alive?”

“Yes, quite alive. She has a son, Steven.”

This rainy-day confession was scattering my tidy mental files around wickedly. “Do you see them often?”

His eyes grew sad. “No,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Why not? Surely you must want to be with them.”

“She’s not overly fond of me. She seems to think that I’m dangerous.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. My first instinct would be to deny that claim because Jack had proven to be a savior to me but, if one were being honest, he _was_ a dangerous man. There were times Jack Harkness could be considered a monster. I had even said that myself.

“Nothing to say to that, huh?” His question was lighthearted as was his smile but the sparkle in his eye was dim. “It’s okay, Ianto,” he said when I tried to make up an excuse. “Men like you and I know where the truth lies. We do what we must do to protect humanity and sometimes that makes us lethal. Making the tough calls takes a cold man. I understand my daughter’s need to keep her distance. Besides, it would be hard to explain to the lad why Grandpa looks younger than his mother.”

“So he has no clue you’re his grandfather? That must be difficult.”

“Somedays it is. It’s better this way. I send them money and she keeps him safe from me.” He threw off the discussion like a wet cloak. “And there’s your first peek into the ‘Harkness Secret’s Vault’ as you like to call it. Damn dismal, isn’t it? Bet you never stick your nose in _there_ again.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me.” I returned to watching the rain fall. “I often feel as if I share everything with you and get nothing in return.”

“I’m not an easy man to love, I fully acknowledge that.”

“No, you’re not but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be. The best things in life are the ones that we have to fight the hardest to attain.”

His silence filled the yard. I never took my eyes from the deluge. “You already have me in your bed, you don’t have to spout pretty prose to win me over.”

“It’s the simple truth,” I stated as his elbow rubbed mine.

He slid his arm around my shoulder and pulled me tight to his side. “You have some rose-colored truths, Ianto Jones.” He pressed a kiss to my hair. The door slid open. My flushed sister came out into our damp little area.

“Here you two are,” she gushed then slammed the door closed. “Bloody hell, the inmates are running the asylum. Let John deal with it for a moment. Did I step into something intimate?”

“Just whispering lover’s secrets,” Jack commented, his arm slipping from around my neck.

“Oh well then, I’ll duck back in. Here, put these on.” She handed Jack two pointed cardboard hats with elastic strings. They had unicorns and fuzzy stars on them. “We’re blowing out candles and opening gifts in five minutes. Plenty enough time for a quick snog.”

She went back in, closed the slider, and even pulled the drapes shut to give us some privacy.

“She does realize that pushing us to be alone is _never_ going to result in a shotgun wedding, right?” Jack asked then handed me a party hat.

“You’re not really going to wear that, are you?” He placed the hat on his head then pulled the elastic under his chin. “Okay, it seems that you _are_ going to wear it.”

“And so are you.”

“Is that an order, Sir?”

“It’s just one of several I plan to give you before you pass out from exhaustion later tonight. You better drink lots of punch with your cake.”

He gave me a salacious wink and ducked back inside. I pulled on my hat and headed to the punch bowl to begin hydrating in preparation.

 

**The End**

 

 

 

 

 


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